


Because You Like It

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Crossdressing, Flavored Condoms, M/M, Noya tops because I said so, schoolgirl uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6990928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Sports Anime Shipping Olympics, Bonus Round 1 (Memory) for the prompt: </p><p>"Remember when Tsukki got his cute little boyfriend to crossdress for him in bed?"</p><p>So, the one where Nishinoya wears a girls' uniform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because You Like It

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally didn't make this very clear in the text, but this is a post-graduation setting where these two have been dating for a while and are living together (or else, Nishinoya is just crashing at Tsukishima's place so much that he might as well be living there).
> 
> I didn't know I shipped this but after saving like twenty prompts, this is the one I found myself writing first? I like the feeling of giving them a time-honed dynamic like this. I also like knee-high stockings. Enjoy!

Tsukishima sets the bag down on the bed without a word of explanation, and goes to his desk to get a book.

Nishinoya stares at it. It’s a regular plastic grocery bag with something dark inside. He shimmies forward on his knees from where he’s been sitting against the headboard messing around on his phone, and peeks inside. What he sees is neatly-folded fabric, something heavy and crisp. At the same time that he reaches in to touch it, he looks at Tsukishima, who is sitting ever so casually facing away from Nishinoya, and reading silently. He’s baiting Nishinoya to question him. That’s fine; Nishinoya shrugs as he pulls at a corner of the fabric.

“What’s this?”

Tsukishima is quiet a moment. He turns a page. “Can’t you tell just by looking?”

When Nishinoya _does_ look back at what he’s got his fingers on, he can. He can tell that it’s a skirt. It’s a familiar skirt, with sharply ironed pleats. He looks into the bag again, knowing now that he’s going to find a white button-down and a red bow tie.

“This is a Karasuno girls’ uniform.”

Tsukishima takes his time in answering again. “See what you can accomplish when you set your mind to it? You figured it out.”

Nishinoya knows Tsukishima well enough by now that his obvious attempts are provoking him are easy to ignore, when he wants to. He doesn’t always want to—sometimes it’s fun to give in to the verbal jousting thing—but right now Nishinoya is distracted by some other questions.

“Okay but _why_ is this a Karasuno girls’ uniform.”

Tsukishima sighs, shuts his book with a little snap like he can’t believe he has to give up his precious reading time to explain this, and turns around in his chair to rest his arms across the back of it.

“I figured that since you like them so much, you should have one of your own.”

Nishinoya unfolds the shirt and holds it up, examines it in the light. He lays it down on the bed and runs a flat palm over it, smoothing it out on the bed. This time, he’ll keep Tsukishima waiting a bit in return.

“There’s no jacket.”

Tsukishima makes a frustrated noise in his throat. “I went to enough trouble to get this much. Just say it’s a summer uniform.”

“But this has long sleeves, though?”

Tsukishima sighs through his nose. He’s crossing the line from fake-annoyed to real-annoyed, so Nishinoya pulls back a little.

“I’ll roll them up. That’s cute, when girls do that.” He blinks when his brain catches up with his mouth. “Wait, you want me to wear this, right? That’s what this is about, you want me to wear the girls’ uniform from our old high school for you.”

Tsukishima turns back around in his chair. “Like I said, I know you liked it. Do what you want, but I made sure it was your size.”

The thing is, when Tsukishima pulls his classic, pure and simple I-did-this-to-mess-with-you shit, he does it while staring his target straight in the face. Right now, he’s facing the opposite direction. If Nishinoya were to make a bold wager, he’d say that Tsukishima wants this particular thing, and he wants it particularly badly. It’s not a 100% bet, but there’s a fairly good chance that Tsukishima is so deeply and uncomfortably obsessed with the idea of Nishinoya flaunting this schoolgirl skirt for him that it hurts. Nishinoya shoves everything back in the bag and slams his money down on the table, so to speak.

“Gotta go run an errand really fast! I’ll be back in fifteen.”

\--

When Nishinoya returns, Tsukishima hears the bathroom door slam shut only seconds after the front door, so he doesn’t have time to say “welcome back” or ask where Nishinoya went. He tries to focus on his book. He’s read the same line about a dozen times.

“Get comfortable,” Nishinoya shouts from the bathroom. “I don’t wanna see you pretending to read boring shit when I get in there."

Tsukishima could call back that he _is_ reading, and it’s _not_ boring. But he could also go recline on the bed, which is what he does. He almost brings the book with him, just so he can stay occupied with something besides his own anticipation, but he doesn’t.

Nishinoya doesn’t give him much time to think, anyway; he bursts into the room in probably less than two minutes, makes a flying leap onto the bed, and scoots forward to straddle Tsukishima’s hips. He sits down rather more heavily than should be possible for someone so small, and Tsukishima flinches and fidgets in protest.

“Hi,” Nishinoya says. And then, belatedly, “I’m home.”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond right away. He’s staring at probable results of Nishinoya’s mystery errand, in the form of black nylon pulled up over his knees.

“Stockings,” Tsukishima says. “You went out to buy stockings.”

“And these!” Nishinoya plucks something out of the uniform shirt’s little chest pocket and tosses it at Tsukishima’s face. When Tsukishima picks it up, scowling, it’s a strawberry-flavored condom. There’s probably a whole box of them, hastily torn open and lying on the bathroom floor along with clothes Nishinoya didn’t bother to pick up.

On the bright side, Nishinoya is sitting on him and wearing a skirt. A skirt with the waistband rolled over itself a few times to make it shorter. Tsukishima decides he won’t mind tidying up a little later.

His fingers play at Nishinoya’s knee for a moment, and then slide up just under the hem of the skirt. Tsukishima feels fabric where he doesn’t expect it, and lifts the skirt tentatively to peek underneath.

“Eager?” Nishinoya asks.

“Hmm…” Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “Just thinking. All this fuss over jackets and stockings, but you’re wearing your own underwear?”

Nishinoya tilts his head to the side. “Wouldn’t it have been weird to buy women’s underwear?”

“But stockings are normal.”

“Stockings are _not_ on the same level as panties.”

Tsukishima takes a really, really thorough look at Nishinoya’s legs. “Debatable.”

Nishinoya smirks, because he _knew_ it, this is so much more than an idle prank. Tsukishima has, like, a _thing_ for this.

“Whatever, you can think of them as like those panties that look like little shorts. Aren’t those so cute on girls?”

Tsukishima gives him a flat look that says very clearly that he has never given much thought to the relative cuteness of any given article of clothing on girls.

“Okay, on _me_ then, if I wore those! Whatever,” Nishinoya says, changing tack hastily. He stands to pull off his boxers and toss them to the floor before kneeling over Tsukishima again. “No underwear, then. That’s sexy, right?”

“Maybe if you didn’t talk so much.” Honestly, why can’t he do these things without ruining it by narrating the whole time?

“Mm.” Nishinoya considers, then shuffles up a little so that when he sits down fully, he can grind his ass against Tsukishima’s crotch. “Shut me up.”

Tsukishima does. He grabs a fistful of collar and bow tie and yanks down so hard he hears stitches snap. He kisses Nishinoya evenly, clean and controlled, backing off with a hum of disapproval every time Nishinoya tries to get heedless and sloppy. Nishinoya pretends to hate it because it makes him have to slow down and focus. Tsukishima doesn’t disguise his triumph, because a focused Nishinoya is a creature made of tenacity and precision. When Nishinoya centers himself perfectly over Tsukishima and rocks his hips, Tsukishima meets him with gratitude and relief, and bites down on Nishinoya’s neck. When he tries to pull away, Nishinoya grabs his hair and holds him there, murmurs to _keep going,_ encourages Tsukishima to suck hard until Nishinoya can really feel it.

When he’s satisfied, Nishinoya sits up. He cranes his neck all the way to one side so he can both show off the pretty new bruise, and imitate Tsukishima’s own signature way of glaring down with eyes full of condescension and subdued mirth. He doesn’t break eye contact one bit as he undoes Tsukishima’s jeans one-handed, just to show off.

Tsukishima holds up the condom like he’s holding a shogi tile. “Which one of us is wearing this?”

Nishinoya drops the act to flash a sunny smile, and shrugs one shoulder just slightly. “You’re the one who likes the taste.”

Tsukishima arches his back, lifts his hips and throws Nishinoya just enough off his balance that he can push him down on his back and take a place between his legs.

There’s a moment when Tsukishima is under the skirt and Nishinoya only _feels_ him rolling the condom on, and he can’t help but complain that he won’t be able to see Tsukishima’s face like this.

“Less talking, please,” is all Tsukishima says, and Nishinoya doesn’t have the wherewithal to protest against the feeling of Tsukishima’s tongue.

By the time he can feel the back of Tsukishima’s throat, Nishinoya starts trying to move the pleats out of the way, but Tsukishima fumbles blindly for his hands and holds him still. It’s worth it, though, because that’s when Tsukishima loses control and starts fucking his own mouth down on Nishinoya with no remaining sense of control or decorum. Nishinoya taps out when he gets too close to finishing, claps Tsukishima twice on the shoulder because that’s the drill when they do things this way, and when Tsukishima pulls off him he lifts up a face flushed and slick with spit.

That more than makes up for the obstructed view from before. Especially because now Tsukishima’s far enough along to let Nishinoya kiss messy, lick wildly against teeth and tongue as he lays Tsukishima back down, strips his pants off, and pushes into him with no delay because he knows Tsukishima wouldn’t propose something like this without being prepared.

Tsukishima comes just about as soon as Nishinoya enters him, his low groan breaking again and again against the impact as he lets Nishinoya finish too.

For a while there is nothing but their panting, gradually falling quieter, Nishinoya tugs at his collar where it’s sticking against his skin with sweat. Tsukishima hooks a finger under one of those ridiculous stockings and snaps it, which makes Nishinoya laugh, fall forward and butt his head against Tsukishima’s chest.

“Tsukishima.”

“Hm.”

“Got a question.”

“Hm.”

“Did you choose Karasuno for the uniform, too?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, pushes Nishinoya off so he can strip off his shirt and clean himself off.

“Give that back to me once you get changed,” he says. “I’m going to wash it.”

Nishinoya grins. “You’re so _into_ this stuff, I never would’ve guessed!”

“I had to buy that myself.” Tsukishima’s flush is fading, but now his ears are newly bright pink at the tips. “I just don’t want to have spent that money on something you’re only going to use once.”

Nishinoya just laughs and rolls around on the bed. “Should I buy one for you too, then? For next time.”

Tsukishima snaps his head around and jabs a finger in the direction of Nishinoya’s face. “Even if you _could_ find one in my size, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not going to work.”

“But—but come onnnn.”

“As long as I live, I am never going to call you _senpai_ in bed.”

Nishinoya pouts, but Tsukishima refuses to pay it any heed. There is laundry to attend to.


End file.
